A Sunny Day
by jo taylor
Summary: There are always questions when a show finishes. For me, I wanted some background, so this story is a little look at Charlie between prison and his first day on the job. In three parts, but I won't keep you waiting.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

This has been percolating for a while, sitting on the back burner of my brain – poor thing. Not your usual Charlie Crews story in that I have tried to answer some of the questions that bothered me about what came before. So, this is a series of glimpses into the four months prior to Charlie taking up his post as a Detective at Robbery/Homicide. I needed to know why that huge prisoner looked after Ted, who that young woman was that wandered down Charlie's stairs in his shirt and Ted said that Charlie was fond of her. Little things, you know

A Sunny Day

Part 1

It was the longest walk of his life. He kept his face composed, not showing the seething anxiety that roiled just below the surface. He had a reputation to uphold, a façade to keep in place just in case this call was not what he so desperately hoped for.

Five short minutes was all it took to turn his world upside down.

Charlie's hand was shaking as he put the phone back on its holder. For a moment he could barely breathe and his vision began to dim.

He hadn't wanted to get his hopes up, but all day he'd been waiting for this call. Good or bad, he knew his life would be changed forever. If things had gone badly, he wasn't sure how he'd carry on. He'd fought hard to gain some respect in his own tiny world; a battle waged both internally and with those around him. The route to harmony had been a rough one and he would always bear the scars, some visible on his body but mostly those buried deep within.

He turned, eyes not really seeing his surroundings, his ears blocking out the sound of the other inmates talking, laughing as though today wasn't momentous.

"Charlie?"

Ed had been standing guard while Charlie took Constance's call. The communal phone was often a site of sudden attacks whilst the caller's attention was otherwise occupied. He'd acquired the slice in his side from one such incident – the day his father called to say his mother had died. All in all, that had been a crap day.

"She's done it," he murmured. Then he raised his eyes to meet those of his cellmate. "She's got me out of here, Ed. Tomorrow morning." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Tomorrow I'll be free."

Ed's large meaty hand came down on Crews' shoulder in a hearty slap that nearly knocked him off his feet. Ed was huge, topping Charlie's six foot one by quite a few inches, and considerably heavier. They'd become tentative friends over the past six weeks, Charlie's calm helping to keep Ed out of trouble on more than one occasion. And that effort was reciprocated by Ed keeping the scum from trying their luck with the ex cop, though Charlie had accrued a reputation now that kept most of the chancers from trying their luck. His run-in with a certain prison guard had rocketed the respect within the community. He was quick to defend himself, had learned the dirtier ways to protect what was his and had gone on the offensive more than once. He'd been changed from a soft target to a man you didn't tangle with, a man Charlie desperately wanted to leave behind along with the memories of what he'd done and what had been done to him.

Charlie had always known why Ed had been put in with him. The man had a rep for uncontrolled violence and had put more than one cellmate in the infirmary. So when he had looked up from his book and seen the man-mountain ushered in, he knew it was the governor's idea of fitting punishment for crimes perceived, and undertaken.

Charlie gathered his calm and let the armour he'd been wearing for the past decade settle on him. Now was not the time to relax his guard, he had five more hours before he would be back in his cell and finally free from the threat of attack. It would be the finest irony should he meet a nasty end today of all days. His eyes scanned the area, noting where the most likely danger lay.

He slept badly that night. Not that he ever slept well. Even in solitary he had felt the pressure of so many violent souls pressing in on him, leaving him un-rested every morning. Then he would start his day with another chapter from the book that had become his personal bible. He'd read it a hundred times, and a hundred times more and each time he found something else that hit a nerve, or opened a door. By the time the day was over he'd needed that reassurance again until the message was so firmly embedded that he could just close his eyes and summon the words he needed to stay in the moment.

Tonight, he had the dream that had haunted him for months. He was back in solitary dressed in his civilian clothes, the white walls seeming to crush in on him, and in the doorway Connie stood, a halo of light limned her as though she were an angel sent to pluck him from this hell. She had called to him and he had risen from his bed and almost ran toward her. Steps from the door she would vanish from his sight, the door would slam shut with a ringing finality and he was back in the bright orange jump suit his body quivering.

Charlie woke early and was already sitting on his bed ready to leave when the jailers came for him. Ed was also awake and he rose to stand beside his cellmate one last time.

"You won't forget, will you, Charlie?"

Crews turned and held out his hand, feeling it crushed in a hearty handshake. "I won't," he replied solemnly. "You'll take care, right? Don't get into trouble now I'm not here. I left the book for you, I…"

"If you two lovebirds have finished?" The guard's harsh tones grated in the early morning quiet. Along the row of cells, other inmates were woken by the noise and now a line of interested faces peered out through bars. As he was escorted out, a barrage of abusive comments were hurled at the guards and Charlie as he was taken to the showers.

Two burly guards stood watching him as he stripped out of the jump suit for the last time, their faces impassive. On the bench were piled the clothes he had come in wearing. He picked up the tee shirt – it smelled faintly musty and rather unpleasant from its twelve years storage. He pulled it on over his head, then finished dressing as quickly as he could. His shirt was still crumpled from being manhandled the day he was arrested. The jeans were loose around his waist; years of constant fear were a great weight loss programme, but one Charlie would have gladly passed up. It felt strange to be dressed in real clothes once more - strange and emotional. He'd been with Jen when he'd been arrested. They'd been browsing the local market when the squad cars had swooped in and almost snatched him from the street. He took a deep breath and turned to follow the guards to the property office.

The plain brown envelope spilled its contents across the desk. The sergeant had a list attached to his clipboard, and in an impersonal voice began to list off the items.

Wallet: black leather, contents two credit cards, drivers' licence, thirty seven dollars and fifty nine cents, shopping list.

Keys: house and car.

Watch: black strap, silver dial.

Ring: gold wedding band.

Charlie slipped his wallet into his back pocket, the watch went back on his wrist, the keys into his front pocket and the ring… that he slipped into the top pocket of his shirt, he needed time to think about that, but not now, no, not now.

He signed the waiver and turned to leave, hope and mistrust at war within him. Even now he half expected to be called back, to be unceremoniously stripped of his civilian clothes and forced back into the jump suit.

Seven am and he was striding out to the main road, his two jailers a step behind him. Outside the gate, he could see Connie standing by her car. The urge to sprint the last few yards was almost overpowering, but he kept a strict check on his steps, he had no intention of giving anything away to the two goons who had been at his side since he rose that morning.

"Want us to keep your room for you, Crews? You know you'll be back."

Charlie ignored the comment. Just a few more steps and he would be free.

"Your boyfriend's gonna miss ya, Charlie boy. Any last messages?" This from goon number two.

Outside the gate Connie had stepped closer as though aware of the conflict within him. He latched onto her concerned gaze and gave a slight smile. He owed these two guards; owed them for the humiliation and pain he had suffered over the last few years. He couldn't get payback today, no not today, but his time would come.

He stepped free of the gates and onto the sidewalk and let his eyes close for an instant as he revelled in his freedom. Above, the sky seemed somehow bluer, the sun warmer on his skin and the air fresher than he could ever remember it. And then Connie moved close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. She smelled delicious, an earthy scent that tickled his senses, her warmth tempting him. It had been so long, but in his top pocket a gold ring weighed heavy over his heart and in his thoughts.

"I know you don't want to think about things today, Charlie, but there are certain visits we need to make as soon as possible." Connie's sultry tones brought him back from the dark turn his thoughts were taking.

"Charlie?"

"Anywhere that isn't here is fine by me. Even though here will always be with me," he replied, his eyes a little bleak.

"Okay," she said slowly. "First trip is to the bank when they open. I've organised a bank account for you, but the forms still need filling in and your approval. Then there's a hefty settlement to be managed, so we'll need a trustworthy account manager."

"Settlement?" In all the time that Charlie had been talking to his attorney, he'd only been vaguely aware of the financial implications. His freedom came first, secondly his position as a detective in the Robbery/Homicide division, at the very bottom of his list came compensation for what had been done to him.

The smile she gave him was enough to give him the hint that this was no petty ante token gesture. "You might want to sit down for this," and she gestured to her car. A few minutes later, buckled in and with the engine turning over, she turned in her seat to look him in the eye. She'd purposefully kept him ignorant of the total amount she'd negotiated. Charlie had been focused on getting out, nothing more, and she hadn't wanted to get his hopes up. "Fifty million US dollars."

Charlie blinked, shook his head in disbelief, and then blinked once again. The amount was incomprehensible to someone who'd scraped by on a policeman's wage. It was too large to even contemplate what he could, or couldn't do with it.

"Charlie?"

"How…? What am I to do with all that money?" he said softly.

She reached out to touch him again. "Whatever you want," she replied just as quietly, then, "But don't go mad with it, okay? I've got a couple of investment managers in mind to make this money work for you."

Charlie latched onto that thought. "I know who I want. The man's name is Ted Early - he's a genius with money."

"The name doesn't ring a bell. I'll look him up and see if he's available. Any idea where he practices from?"

He smiled, and leaned back against the leather upholstery. "Ted was in prison with me, Connie, I don't think he'll be practicing anywhere right now."

She looked across at him. His eyes were closed, a slight smile tugged at his lips and there was a sense of relaxation about him that hadn't been there moments before. And then, as though someone has turned a switch, he fell asleep. Even as she turned the key and started the car, Charlie remained oblivious. A tender smile flitted briefly across her face as she pulled away from the kerb, they'd discuss letting an ex con handle his fortune later.

The bank was busy, but it seemed that they were expected. A boyish looking thirty-something strode forward as they entered, his hand extended in welcome.

Charlie took an instant dislike to the man. Something didn't sit right in his gut, and he had learned to listen to that instinct. In prison he had got used to summing people up quickly. It could literally be life or death if he misjudged, and what he saw in the face opposite him, didn't fill him with confidence. They shook hands and Charlie's hackles started to rise.

By the time they'd been ushered into the chrome and white office, he was pretty damn sure he wasn't going to be entrusting his money to this man.

He sat in the chair offered and scanned the banker again. Every instinct screamed a no, so, even though he'd probably get an earful, he had to say something.

He leaned over to Connie and whispered in her ear. "I don't like the look of him, can I bank somewhere else?"

Constance turned and stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Charlie, you don't even know the man," she whispered back.

Charlie's eyes narrowed as he scanned the banker's face again, the man's gaze flitting between the two in some concern.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"How much do you earn a year, Mr Wilde?" Charlie asked out of the blue.

"I, er… that's besides the point here, Mr Crews. We are here to sort out your banking needs." The false smile was obvious to someone who had spent twelve years learning how to read the warning signs given out unconsciously.

"How much are you skimming, Mr Wilde?"

Connie's horrified gaze moved between the two men. "Ah, we'll um, we'll come back at a later time, Mr Wilde. I'm sorry about this." Grabbing Charlie's arm, she hauled him up and marched him out of the room, through the foyer and out onto the street before letting go.

"What the hell was that about? You can't go accusing someone of theft out of the blue like that! Are you asking for trouble?"

Charlie stood his ground. "Did you see that watch, Connie? No way he could afford that on an account manager's wages. The suit? I bet that cost as much as I would earn in a six month. I couldn't afford that kind of gear, but I saw it often enough on the job to know what something like that costs. He's not clean, and he's not handling my money."

"And if he decides to put in a complaint about you? I don't want to see you lose everything because you see criminals everywhere you go." Her voice was steely as she put into words what she had feared from the time he left jail. It was only natural that he would be distrustful, but this was going beyond the line of what she would tolerate, no matter if it did upset him.

Crew's face grew grim. "Oh he won't put in a complaint. If he's skimming from the bank, the last thing he'll want is someone having to check out the accusation." He nodded to the bank across the street, "Let's try in there."

Connie let out a long sigh, shook her head and backed down, when it came to it Charlie was her client, he paid her wages, or at least he would. But she was not going to let him make a huge mistake, not if she could help it at least.

The bank was less chrome and glass and more wood and tiles, and Charlie found it much more to his liking.

Casting a warning glance his way, Connie left him standing by the windows and went in search of a customer service representative. A few minutes later they were ushered into another office. The walls here decorated with family photos rather than diplomas. The woman behind the desk was in her fifties, carefully groomed but with a twinkle in her eye that Charlie immediately took to.

Some twenty minutes later they left, Charlie smiling happily, Connie having to shift her perceptions of her client one step to the left. The accounts had been organised in rapid time, transfers made via the computer and a temporary card issued there and then. It wasn't every day that the bank took on a client worth fifty million, and they proved that in exceptional circumstances the wheels could turn very fast indeed.

Back on the street, they were making their way back to her car when Charlie suddenly veered off course and headed towards a vendor's stand. Fresh oranges were piled to one side, a machine for making juice drinks taking up the rest of the cart.

"What can I get you, mate?" the vendor asked, seeing a potential client.

Connie joined Charlie.

"Oranges, Connie. Do you know how long it's been since I had fresh fruit?" The longing in his voice made Connie catch her breath.

"We'll take six oranges, please. Put them in a bag if you have one?" She pulled out her purse and paid the man, took the bag and gave it to Charlie. He gazed at the fruit as though someone had just given him the secret to eternal life.

She pressed her lips together, determined not to lose it on the street. Coughing, she attracted his attention and steered him back to her car. For the next ten minutes Charlie indulged himself, spilling juice down his chin and onto the well-worn denim of his jeans and filling the car with the tang of citrus.

Charlie had never been fond of clothes shopping. Like most men he was happy if it was comfortable and practical. He'd never bothered about the latest trends, or designer clothes. Jen had bought him nice clothes; he'd bought himself whatever came to hand. Now he had the money he still wanted clothes that were more his style.

Connie, however, had other ideas. "You're going to be a detective; you have a certain standard to maintain, Charlie. Believe me, I know about dressing for the job."

Charlie looked her over. Even today, when she was not expected to work, she was still smartly dressed. It didn't look terribly comfortable. His indecision must have shown.

"Believe me, if it's well made, it's comfortable. I couldn't be all day in something that wasn't. But I'll give you a break for today; we'll go for casual, okay?"

Relieved, he nodded his assent, but quickly changed his mind when Connie drove into one of the more expensive shopping districts.

The place was rather intimidating, and Charlie was feeling more than vulnerable. Just a few hours ago he'd been locked up with a bunch of rough convicts, virtually anonymous in his jump suit, not standing out as he did now in his well-worn denims and faded tee shirt. He looked exactly what he was, out of place and out of his depth.

A tall, elegant blonde floated over to them, her perfume reaching him long before she was standing before them. Connie explained what they wanted – she didn't seem impressed but instead called over an assistant. This woman was a glorious light coffee colour with curly hair and smiling eyes. Charlie's barriers began to fall.

"He needs dressing from the skin out," Connie stated. "Whatever he needs; underwear, casual, smart and he'll need to be measured for at least six suits. Shirts, ties, shoes, everything. No price limit, but I do expect good quality."

"She's a lawyer, you know," Charlie whispered, the hint of a smile on his face.

The assistant's eyes widened, probably at the thought of the commission involved rather than Connie's profession. Dealing with people of her ilk was a day-to-day occurrence.

Charlie could see the speculation in the woman's gaze.

"I'm Charlie, by the way. And no, I'm not her toy boy." He grinned at Connie, turning the embarrassment into a joke with his cheeky grin.

An hour later and they emerged with nearly a dozen fancy bags containing enough clothes to see him through a week or so. He baulked at designer underwear at first, until he'd noted the interest in his personal shopper's eye. Maybe nice underwear wasn't such a bad idea after all. After that, he was pretty much putty in her hands, nodded acceptance of lightweight trousers, an array of tees and shirts, even a hoodie, something he'd not expected to find in an establishment like this.

He'd ended up leaving his old clothing behind, after quickly removing his wedding band and putting it safely in his wallet, and stepped out into the street in his new clothes, which he had to admit were very comfortable. Connie had grinned at him after he had admitted that wearing nice clothes wasn't all that bad, and his face had softened into a gentle smile before he leant over to kiss her cheek murmuring a thank you as he did so.

The ten-minute nap he'd had that morning did little to relieve the creep of exhaustion that was tugging at his mind. It was barely ten o'clock in the evening but Charlie headed for bed. The room that Connie had prepared for him was well appointed, the furniture heavy and expensive. Looking out the window he noted the other large town houses along the street. The area was affluent, fairly quiet and a lifetime away from what he was used to.

He fell asleep almost instantly, dragged down by the lack of sleep the night before and the tension that had thrummed through him for most of the day. Freedom, wonderful as it was, was harder to come to terms with than he had expected.

A few hours later Charlie was awake - wide awake. He was unused to the comparative quiet, the sounds of cars passing down the street, the lack of voices shouting out and the loud snores of Ed, his cellmate. Whatever the cause, he was now unable to sleep. He tossed and turned for a while then gave up. Rising, he made his way to the window and perched on the wide sill, his forehead resting against the cool glass. The glow from the streetlamps outside gave him enough light to see what he was doing.

It was gone two in the morning; most of the houses were dark now, just the odd upstairs light showing that he was not the only person unable to sleep. They'd done so much today, but there was still so much to do. He had to track down Ted. His friend hadn't done well in prison and he wasn't sure how well he'd cope being back on the street again. What could the man do by way of employment? Was he on welfare or was he hiding himself away somewhere, drifting on a downward spiral? Charlie had the horrible thought that Ted would not bounce back easily - he was barely holding it together with Connie's help, who did Ted have?

And, much as he appreciated all that Connie had done for him, this house felt constricting. He wasn't sure why, but now that there was no longer a table between them, their connection seemed closer than it should. Her husband was off on a business trip and Charlie had been very aware that he was sharing a house with a beautiful woman.

His gaze drifted to the plain gold band that he'd positioned on the bedside table earlier that evening. Jen's face flashed into his consciousness. She'd married someone else, was living a new life with a new man. Sleeping with someone else, when it should have been him. The sense of betrayal hit him once again. He'd seen it in her eyes when she'd visited him in prison before the trial. The doubt that showed in her gaze even as she had smiled at him and told him all would be okay. He'd felt that duplicity like a stab through the heart. Even though he'd sworn to her that he had done nothing and that it was a mistake, she had not believed him. Had she ever known him? Had he ever known her? It didn't stop him wanting her though, and that was another tragedy in his life.

Slowly he reached over and picked up the band. A perfect circle meant to symbolise unity; a lifelong commitment, or at least that is what he had expected it to be. He slid the ring over his finger and pushed it down. It was too large now, not much, but enough that it was too loose to wear comfortably. There was probably some deep meaning to the fact that it no longer fit, he was no longer her husband – he was no longer a married man. He slid it off again with equal care, replacing it on the cabinet and returning his gaze to the street below.

Tomorrow he must find a good bookshop and replace his book on Zen. Although he could quote pages from it now, he wanted that physical weight in his hand – he needed it. Being without was like going cold turkey.

"Charlie, are you okay? You left your door open."

The soft voice caught him unawares. Connie stood in the open doorway. She'd changed clothes when they had returned and was still wearing the sweatpants and tee shirt she'd donned a few hours before. Her brow was furrowed in mild concern as she gazed at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Charlie turned to look directly at her, doing his best to ignore her concern.

"You didn't, " she replied. "I've just finished up some paperwork and saw your door open on the way up." She paused. "Can't sleep?"

He half smiled and shrugged. "Too wired, too much to take in, too much to think about, but I'm okay. Go to bed, Connie, I'll be fine."

She took his dismissal calmly, nodded and turned to leave then turned back again. "If you need to talk, you know where I am. Any time, Charlie. Any time."

He nodded, knowing she would be a good listener, but he wasn't ready to share his doubts right now. He had to get his confidence back and be able to cope with the world that had changed so much in the last twelve years.

"Don't sit up all night, okay? Get some rest."

He turned back to the window and murmured softly, "Better to sit all night than go to bed with a dragon."

Charlie got out of the cab and looked up at the depressing building, his face not giving away his misgivings. He paid the driver, tipping too generously, then, taking a deep breath he made his way into the foyer. The hotel was the type that got raided on a regular basis. It was the sort of place that hired rooms by the hour, or rented rooms to low-lifes who couldn't afford any better. That Ted had ended up here made Charlie's gut clench in anger.

Ted had paid a huge price for his crime, the punishment not ending when he'd served out his time. And prison had been tough for the gentle soul that he was. He hadn't taken the beatings Charlie had, but he'd been on the receiving end of more than one fist fest. He'd been too bright for his own good - the system making it easy for him to use his skills on insider trading. He'd been a rich man – for a while. To come down to this… Afraid of what he might find, Charlie tackled the clerk at the desk. A couple of twenties later and he had a room number. Climbing the stairs, he made sure not to touch the walls or the handrail. Not that his sensibilities were so nice, but he didn't want to contemplate what the green and brown stains were that decorated every surface. Standing under Constance's power shower that morning, had given him a taste of what his life was going to be. It was the little things that meant the most in any life. Cars, houses, holidays that lasted months and took you to exotic destinations didn't compare to standing under hot running water and enjoying eggs and orange juice for breakfast, or standing under the bright sun and knowing he was free to go anywhere he wanted.

There was no sound from the other side of the battered door that he now stood in front of. Was Ted out? He knocked and waited. No answer. He tried again, still silence greeted him. "Ted, are you there? It's Charlie, Charlie Crews."

He heard steps then, and the scrape of a chain being put into place, then the door opened a fraction and a suspicious eye peered around the door. "Charlie?"

"Hi, Ted. Can I come in?" Crews kept his voice low and soothing. The tremor in Ted's voice was something he hadn't heard in a long time. Not since the first day they'd met in prison and Charlie had rescued him from the hands of two thugs playing with the frightened man.

The door closed, the chain rattled and then Ted let the door swing wide, moving away as Charlie came into the room. A quick glance showed just how far down Ted had gone. The walls were a putrid shade of brown, matching the scarred linoleum floor. The furniture had obviously come with the room, each piece barely fit for purpose. Greying sheets were tangled on the bed, and dirty cups and plates littered the floor around a single armchair.

Ted's hair was overlong and didn't look too clean. His clothes had that lived in look, rumpled, stained and a long way from being new. A few days growth of beard clung to a face that seemed a lot thinner than it had before he'd been released from jail. He was a man on a slippery slope to despair.

His friend had moved to look out the window, not that much could be seen through the dirty panes. Shoulders high, hands shoved into his pockets, his back screamed insecurity and a need to protect himself. This was not where he was meant to be, not who he had been and certainly not what he wanted now. Charlie felt the tug of anger tighten.

"When did you get out?"

"Last week. Constance worked her magic and got me out of there. It's taken me a while to find you."

A subtle shrug of his shoulders was Ted's only reply. Now Charlie had to find a way around the man's pride. He may have hit rock bottom, but no one likes to admit that they need help, or want to take a handout. Not that it would be that, but to a man like Ted it might just come over as an insult.

"I've rediscovered fruit, Ted. Oranges, grapefruit, mangos, grapes. Did you know that I'd never even tried mango until last week? And eggs, real eggs. Scrambled, fried, poached!"

Ted turned, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Fruit? You tracked me down to talk about fruit?"

"No, I tracked you down to talk about money. Lots of money. Lots of my money." The accompanying grin flashed across the room. "You know more about money than anyone I know. I'm here to offer you a job, Ted. I need someone I can trust one hundred percent, and you're the man."

Ted turned back to the window. "You know what I was put inside for, you don't want me anywhere near your money."

"It's an awful lot of money, Ted. Constance has a list of suits just waiting to take me on, but I don't want that. I don't know them - I don't trust them. I know you, Ted. I know what you did, but I also know who you are. I need your help, to keep it all in perspective. Right now, it's Monopoly money."

"How much?" Interested now, despite himself Ted looked back over his shoulder at his former prison buddy.

"Fifty million."

Ted's jaw dropped. "Fifty mill…Fifty million? My God, Charlie."

"Now do you see why I need someone I can trust not to screw me over?"

"Jeez."

There was a long silence, and it took all Charlie's self control to not try and push the issue.

"Invested right, that could make you a lot of money," Ted muttered.

"It could," Charlie replied. "It could also disappear in a heartbeat if the wrong people manage it."

His tone diffident, Ted asked, "When, um, when would you need me to, ah, start?"

"Today would be good, actually, today would be great. I need a house first, somewhere with a view, somewhere I don't have to worry about locking my doors."

Ted snorted. "Charlie, you'll always have to lock your doors." He paused for a moment, then, "What sort of view?"

Charlie didn't let his triumph show.

"You want lunch? I think I'm hungry! You know, I am hungry. Fancy pizza? Call it a working lunch, I'll tell you what I need, you tell me how much you want and we'll shake hands over a deep pan."

Ted shook his head. "Charlie, we will have a contract, and I'll make sure you read every line before you sign it. I can see why you need me."


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Another series of snippets looking into Charlie's journey from prison to police force.

Connie watched her house guest stroll through the car showroom. He was doing his best to look nonchalant but every now and then his hand would glide near a shiny bonnet, or he would stop and stare at the sleek lines of a trophy car. He looked rather sleek himself that day, freshly barbered and dressed head to toe in shades of coffee and cream.

There, she saw the grin slip out again, almost impossible for him to contain as he contemplated the array before him. He was like a kid in a toyshop with no limit on what he could spend.

They had been approached the moment they entered the showroom, but Charlie had waved the man off, wanting to browse alone. Connie had taken the offer of a chair and a coffee and had sat down to watch him. He moved with an elegant grace that she hadn't expected but found rather enticing. She tried to look at him dispassionately; tall and well made with that fabulous hair that dared you to run your fingers through it: A smile that lit his eyes with an inner sparkle, a joy that she had never seen until recently. The prison pallor had given way to a healthy colour that highlighted the freckles spread liberally across his face. Most mornings he went for a run –' I have to get back in shape' he'd said, heading out the door the week before. He'd purchased a Walkman of all things, and a couple of Zen tapes to listen to while he ran. The search for such an antiquated bit of technology had been frustrating and even at the end both the salesman and Connie had tried to promote an Ipod, but Charlie had been adamant that he preferred the tapes - he knew what he was doing with those. By then she really ought to have known just how stubborn her client could be, so she had seen him off on his run. He got lost, and she'd been panicking some three hours later wondering if she should report him as missing. Then he'd turned up, smiling and full of the journey he had made and the people he had met. He was still rejoicing in the freedom she had fought so hard to get for him.

She brought her attention back to the showroom, in time to see him open the door to some sleek black number. The salesman moved over to join him and began to expound the beauty of the car, the many features available, the fine leather of the seats, how fast it could go. Connie understood nothing about cars, but she could see Charlie taking in everything he was told, his fingers caressing the wheel, his head back against the rest. Even from this distance she could feel the excitement pouring from him, and smiled.

Charlie had never minded being a passenger; from his early days riding with Bobby, to letting Jen drive the car at weekends, he'd always been happy to let someone else drive but now, now he was finding in himself a need for the freedom his own car would give. Connie, when she wasn't busy, was more than happy to ferry him here and there, or he'd catch a cab, but the thought of getting behind the wheel with no one to answer to had taken a serious hold. Besides, he'd justified to himself, he would need a car for work if nothing else. He'd renewed his licence and was ready to spend some of his settlement on a major purchase. Ted was out looking for prospective houses for him, and Charlie had bought him a car just the day before – business expense he had said, and Ted has smiled in understanding, acknowledging that Charlie was 'getting the hang of creative accounting'. Now it was his turn.

The sleek black shape called to him, urging him to sully its beauty with his fingertips, like a beautiful woman beckoned his touch. Like Cassie, he thought, the image of his personal shopper popping up in his head. Sooner or later he'd have to ask her out, she'd made her interest know in subtle ways, but until he had a house, a home to take her to, he wasn't going to cheapen the whole thing by using a motel.

The salesman droned on, but Charlie was too busy absorbing the feel of the car, the way the seat seemed to cushion his body, the feel of the steering wheel the gleam of the dashboard. Interrupting the man's flow he asked, "Where's the tape deck?"

"Ah, the car comes fully equipped with a cd player, surround sound speakers positioned for perfect clarity…"

"No, I need a tape deck, for my cassettes." Charlie looked at the man expectantly. "Can't you put a tape deck in?" His voice was deceptively quiet.

Connie came over to join them. "Found one you like, Charlie?"

He stepped out of the car, closing the door with care. "I thought so, but apparently not. Let's try the other show room you mentioned."

"Ah, I'm sure we could get any modifications you wished, sir. If you could just give me a few minutes to check with our head office?"

Charlie smiled beatifically at the salesman.

Mrs Corbin's home was in an old yet well-kept suburb some two hours drive outside of Los Angeles. Charlie pulled the car up to the kerb and sat for a few moments, getting a feel for the area. Just the day before he'd bought himself a gun and a knife, the knife was tucked in his back pocket, the gun strapped to his ankle. Until he was officially back on the force, he had no permit to carry a weapon, so both were hidden from view. Though he didn't think he'd need either one here.

Ed's mum was a tiny woman, maybe five three and built on slender lines. It hardly seemed possible that she had given birth to the man he'd shared a cell with so recently. Her eyes were tired, her skin lacking colour as though she were just fading away. Ed had said she hadn't been well, and he'd been worried about her. Charlie had promised to visit and make sure she was okay. Now he stood before her, he wasn't sure what he could say.

"Mrs Corbin? I'm Charlie Crews, I was in jail with your son…"

She began to slam the door shut, but he put his foot in the gap. "Please, don't be scared. Ed asked me to look in on you when I got out; he's been worried about you. He told me you had been unwell and he just wants to know how you are."

The insistent pressure on his instep eased a fraction and her eyes flew up to his. With the slight adjustment of her head Charlie spotted the scar that ran down from her left eye to the corner of her mouth. An old scar that lifted the side of her mouth in a slight smile, though that was not the expression held by her eyes. As though aware of his scrutiny she turned her face away.

"I'll go," Charlie said, uncomfortable with having made her so self-conscious.

"How is he?"

He turned at that soft question, and made his way back to the door.

"He's doing better, I think. At least he hadn't permanently damaged anyone in the last couple of weeks he shared with me."

She eyed him curiously. "Are you saying you were a good influence?" her tone of voice echoing her disbelief.

"Maybe. Ed's never going to be an angel, but he could be a better man."

Mrs Corbin's fingers rose to the scar in an unconscious gesture. Charlie frowned. "He didn't do that, did he?"

She shook her head then opened the door wider. "Come on in, I can't have this conversation with my neighbours watching."

The inside was neat if sparsely furnished. An attempt had been made to lift the place with brightly coloured rag rugs and throws, though all had seen better days. On the table was a vase of roadside flowers already wilting in the heat. Daisies had been hand embroidered on a couple of cushions and a drug store print of a spring garden hung on the wall.

"Sit, I'll make us a coffee, unless there's something else you'd like? I have orange juice, or there's tea if you prefer."

Charlie opted for the juice and sat back in his chair to wait for her to speak.

"The scar was a parting gift from Ed's father. Nasty piece of work when he got drunk. Oh, I know what you're thinking, why didn't I leave him the first time he hit me? Well it isn't that easy when you're a seventeen year old runaway with an abusive father and an alcoholic mother."

Charlie leaned forward and dropped a hand over hers where they were clenched tightly together. "Mrs Corbin, I can't judge you. Everyone has to live their lives the way they can. We all make mistakes, it's how we deal with the results that matters."

She withdrew her hands and glared at him. "I didn't deal with the results, Ed did. He was fourteen when this happened," her fingers touching the white mark on her face. "Fourteen and big for his age. Dan got roaring drunk and laid into me right in front of Ed, and Ed…" her voice caught as the emotions hit her once again. "Ed picked up the table lamp and hit his father… over and over and over. I couldn't get him to stop." Her whole body was trembling now. Charlie had to wonder how long she'd kept the pain locked away.

She raised her eyes to his and spoke. "Ed ended up being tried in the adult court, got locked up with those murderers and rapists. Vicious men who turned my boy into what he is today." She gasped, suddenly remembering whom she was talking to.

"It's okay," he said soothingly.

"No, it's not okay. Ed is behind bars because of me and I may never see him free again. I can't afford to travel all that way to see him, at least not often, not as I'd like to. And what can I write in a letter?"

Charlie left the woman still upset, but calmer after promising to let Ed know she was doing okay.

As he was driving back, his mind was turning over what he could do for her. Arranging a car once a month to get her to and from the prison seemed a good way to repay Ed for his help in jail. He'd organise it with Ted as soon as he saw him. And then Charlie spotted the florist and pulled his car up to the kerb with a screech of his new brakes. Ten minutes later he exited, his eyes sparkling. He'd arranged to have a bunch of flowers delivered every week, nothing too ostentatious, but whatever was in season. Now he felt the scales were balanced.

Charlie enjoyed the good mood as he drove back toward the city. It had been a long time since he'd done something unselfish for someone. Even Constance, he thought ruefully. He owed her big time. He determined to stop somewhere and pick her up a thank you gift. He'd never been good at buying presents though. He'd always asked Jen what she wanted, not wanting to make a mistake. Whether it was birthday, Christmas or anniversary she'd start with the white horse, smile, then tell him what she knew he could provide. A night at the theatre, a small piece of jewellery maybe, her favourite perfume that was normally off her list of essential buys. He could smell it now, earthy and tempting. And that raised all sorts of demons, his traitorous body getting uncomfortable in all sorts of places.

It maybe shouldn't have been such a surprise then, when he found himself driving into familiar territory. He certainly hadn't planned to go anywhere near his old neighbourhood, but here he was – passing the market where he had been arrested, the local restaurant he and Jen had frequented, the roads he had travelled down every day.

He pulled his car into the parking lot of the local store and sat for a moment pondering his decision. It was probably the worst thing he could do, but he didn't think he could stop himself. He needed to put this obsession with his ex behind him once and for all. She was married to someone else, had abandoned him to his fate with not a backward glance, he should hate her. He couldn't. She'd filed for divorce so fast he had to wonder if she had already met her new husband, maybe even before the arrest. Leaning his head back against the rest, he let his eyes close and made a determined effort to stop his whirling thoughts.

When he was calmer he set the car in motion and headed to his old street. Not a lot had changed in the last 12 years. The Robertson's had finally put up the fence Roy had been talking about for years; there were bikes in yards that hadn't had children when he had lived there. The old tree on Sam's property had grown even bigger - it's weeping branches almost touching the ground now and his old house… He stopped the car on the opposite side of the road and turned the engine off.

The door had been painted a bright red, almost matching the abundance of red roses in the front yard. They'd never put in flowers at the front, using the area to park the car. He opened the window, as though that would bring him closer. From the distance he could hear the sounds of children playing. Did the new owners have kids? He and Jen had spoken about having a family, but the time had never seemed right. Probably for the best, he had to acknowledge, and yet he felt he'd somehow missed out. Did she have children now? What did her husband do? He'd avoided finding out, not wanting to dig the knife in any deeper, but maybe he would just assuage his curiosity – one day.

The day they had come to view the house still stuck in his memory. Jen had been wearing some floaty summer dress that accented all her curves. He'd been totally distracted by her scent and the feel of her hand in his and the anticipation that bubbled in them both. It was a big move, getting out of the rented apartment they'd started off in and being able to take the plunge and buy a home of their own. That was thanks to the extra money coming in from the investment he'd made in the bar. The extra wasn't a huge amount, but enough to get the deposit together, from there their combined wages should be able to cover the mortgage.

They stepped through the front door a pace or two behind the realtor and were immediately standing in the living room. It wasn't huge but felt 'right' somehow. Jen's hand had tightened around his and he'd squeezed gently back. The kitchen looked out onto a modest garden that had been kept beautifully, with flowers edging either side of a nicely mown lawn. Not too much work to keep it in that condition, something that was a consideration with them both working and his erratic shifts. He'd tried his best not to show how much he liked the place, but with Jen grinning like a fool beside him he couldn't keep his own smile from his face.

He'd smiled a lot back then. The job had been a tax on him emotionally, but when he got home he could be himself again. Charlie wasn't sure he knew who he was now, certainly not the man he'd been all those years ago. Sometime during his incarceration his love of life had been sorely tried. Zen gave him a chance to start again, to wipe the slate clean and begin afresh. And he would, soon.

His fingers were curled tight around the steering wheel, so tight that it finally drew him back from his contemplation of the house to view the whitened knuckles and feel the ache along his arms. He quickly turned the key and drove off, turning on the tape player as he did, letting the soothing tones and wise words settle in him.

He had meant to find Ted and take him out for a meal that evening, leaving Constance and her husband a night to themselves. Since his return, her husband had been dropping not very subtle hints that he'd like some quality time with his wife – without the shadow of Charlie's presence. So tonight he'd stay away, but now, now he didn't think he would be good company. Instead, he turned off the freeway and headed to the beach, and drove up along the coast road until he found a high spot looking out over the ocean. He parked the car and got out, leaning on the bonnet and letting his mind calm, the heat from the cooling engine seeping through his jeans to his skin.

It was still a few hours until dusk; he was unlikely to be bothered by teenagers looking for a romantic view to enhance a night of pleasure in the back seat. He pulled out his wallet and extracted his wedding ring, turning it round and round.

Was his attachment to this symbol something he had to give up? It was just an object when all was said and done: a piece of metal, nothing more. Then why couldn't he let go of it, of what it had meant to him?

Gazing out across the sea he waited for the ocean to calm him, but it didn't. The agitation of the tide, the swish of water against rocks found an echo inside him, one he couldn't seem to stop. For days now this restless need for something, anything had washed over him at odd moments. He'd wake from sleep feeling suddenly bereft, or be driving along the street and finding himself scanning faces. For who or what he had no idea. Ted had noted his agitation one day when he'd been unable to hide it – and he'd recommended sex as a cure. That might help some of his needs, but not nearly all. And sex with the wrong person would be as bad as the unrest he already fought. He wanted his wife, and he couldn't have her.

He stood suddenly, and took a step toward the guardrail that prevented anyone accidentally going over the edge. Taking a deep breath he drew back his arm and threw the ring as far as he could, watching it head toward the waves below and disappear beneath the surface with a finality that took his breath away.

If he had thought the longing would disappear as well, he was sadly mistaken. The agitation of the waves seemed to increase his loss – too late, too late.

The Californian sun was at its hottest when Charlie drove up and parked outside the house, tucking his car in behind Ted's and a sporty open top. It was a very large house set on a private road, the nearest neighbours invisible from where he stood. Across from the main house was a set of garages with accommodation above, or so the flyer had said. Ted had been very positive about this place, and Charlie was feeling hopeful. Getting the right house had seemed imperative at the beginning of his search, but after ruling out views of the sea, being too close to other houses, the view not quite what he wanted, he'd picked up on Ted's frustration.

The front door opened and Ted strolled out, hands in his pockets in a consciously relaxed pose. So, Ted really liked this one then. Charlie kept his smile under control and followed his friend back into the house. The hall way was large, open and airy. No doors, Charlie noted, and turned to wander into the kitchen. The realtor stood, beaming from ear to ear posed against the countertop. She was a very attractive woman, Charlie admitted, not that it would influence his decision.

He wandered through the house; large rooms, wide corridors, open spaces - it was just what he had been looking for, though not the first he'd seen like this. Coming back to the ground floor Ted escorted him outside to the pool, but Charlie's gaze was riveted to the view. The house perched on the edge of a ravine, its dusty scrub-filled sides stretched ahead of him. Yes, he could see other houses, but they were far away and not a problem. He strolled to the edge, and stood quietly watching nothing happening. Peaceful.

Ted was watching him from the open patio door and let out a soft sigh of relief when he saw his friend's shoulders drop. Charlie had been a tight as a drum for days now, he didn't know what had upset him, he was virtually impossible to read when he wanted to be inscrutable, but it seemed he'd finally found something to ease that tension.

"Ted?" Charlie's voice carried back to him.

"Yeah, Charlie?"

Charlie looked back over his shoulder and smiled.

The paperwork had finally come through, in thirty short days Charlie would be back on the force. A detective in the Robbery Homicide division, though he didn't know yet who would be his partner. Whoever had pissed off the Chief the most was his best guess - or someone as difficult to accept as himself. Whoever he got, he'd do his best to work with them, to do the job to the utmost of his ability. Even though the system had screwed him over, he'd always been a cop at heart. There were those he could hate with impunity, but the bulk of the force were just doing their job the best they could, putting their lives on the line every day for little reward and less thanks. He was looking forward to making a difference again. And then there were the fringe benefits that access to the police computers would give him, once he got the hang of using them that was. Ted had offered to show him, and he'd spent frustrating hours getting lost on the Internet whilst listening to Ted's exasperated huffing and muttering.

Today though he had a serious appointment. Before he would be considered for duty he had to measure up to the firearms standard, so he'd booked time at the nearest shooting range, bought a legitimate weapon and registered it and now stood outside its bland façade. He thought he could hear the sound of gunfire, but that was impossible. The building was for indoor shooting and the soundproofing was top notch. That didn't stop Charlie from hearing the sound of guns though. It had been, what, nearly thirteen years since he'd fired a gun and that had been in self-defence. He and Bobby had been called to a gang related situation where there were more guns on display than he'd ever come across before. They'd shared a look and taken cover behind their vehicle with weapons drawn. The stand off had lasted nearly an hour, with four dead, five wounded and a few holes in their patrol car that would put it out of action for quite a while. He'd gone home that night and made love to his wife until he couldn't feel the terror any more.

Shaking his head, Charlie pushed through the doors and made his way to the reception, a few minutes later he entered the facility. Now he could hear it, each bang echoing through him, reminding him what he was about to go back to. The smell of cordite hung in the air making him want to sneeze. He carefully placed his bag on the ledge, donned the ear protectors and then removed his gun. The range provided blank ammunition and checked that no live bullets had been brought in, so he should feel totally safe – but he didn't. Taking a slow, deep breath he raised the gun to shoulder level and let his mind clear of everything except taking the shot. He'd had an excellent record – before, it would be interesting to see what he could do now.

Half an hour later Charlie emerged into daylight and blinked at the sudden glare – the roar of traffic assaulted his ears and for a moment he just stood whilst he adjusted to the outside world. 90% of his hits were in the centre, and that was good, but not good enough. Practice was now a must. That missing 10% had been at the beginning of his session, when his hand was still shaking. His Zen training had helped then, letting him free his mind of distractions, bringing his focus to just that moment, just that second, just that target – and then he never missed. Turning his face up to the sun, Charlie let himself finally begin to believe he could really do this.

Truly, he hadn't gone looking for her. He just needed a few more items to add to his wardrobe, plus his work suits were ready to collect and he had time that morning.

She was dealing with someone else when he strolled onto her floor. The man was older than Charlie, in his fifties somewhere, but well groomed and smartly dressed - and hitting on Charlie's personal shopper! The man's hand was resting lightly on Cassie's arm and although the movement was subtle, Charlie could see her lean away slightly. Her smile was fixed and her eyes weren't smiling, she was obviously uncomfortable but the client was doing nothing too obvious. Long buried protective instincts surged through Charlie and he was on the move almost before he realised what he was about to do. His brain was quick to catch up to his body however, and by the time he'd reached Cassie's side he'd an idea in mind.

"Hi, Cassie, so sorry I'm late. I won't disturb you but I'll be waiting over there for you, okay?" His fingers touched her shoulder lightly as he bent and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Then he turned to the client with a huge smile. "Sorry to disturb you, but it's our anniversary and I promised to take her for lunch." He turned back to Cassie, "I'll be right there, honey."

The man looked between them, stiffened then strode off toward the elevators.

Charlie hadn't actually moved at all, and maybe that had more to do with the man's leaving. He wasn't the tallest man, but at over six foot he'd been a good two to three inches taller, add to that the unleashed energy that he seemed to carry with him now and really the gent didn't stand a chance. Twelve years in a maximum security prison left a distinct mark upon a man that Charlie hid most of the time, until he felt the need to let it show. It seemed it worked even better outside the prison walls.

Cassie looked up at him and smiled, then grinned, clasping her hands to her bosom in a parody of the movie heroines of old, proclaiming, "My hero," and fluttering her eyelashes at him. They both burst into fits of laughter - and it felt so good.

"Anniversary?"

"I'm sure it must be an anniversary of something, for someone," he quipped back. "I promised you lunch, so where would you like to go?"

Her smile faded as she tipped her head to one side to study him.

"I'm not going to make you an improper offer," Charlie said quickly, "Just lunch."

Her slow smile emerged then and he could have sworn her heard her say 'shame', but she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, I can't, not today. I'm on shift until five this evening."

"You can eat in the evenings as well," Charlie persisted, suddenly needing her warmth and humour.

She shook her head, "Not tonight, sorry."

He must have shown his disappointment, so much for his Zen veneer of calm.

She placed careful fingers on his arm, the barest of pressures that sent a quiver through him. Good Lord, was he that in need? Being honest with himself, Charlie had to admit that he was.

"I'll be on lunch from noon tomorrow?"

"Then I'll be here at eleven fifty nine, " he said quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

It was ridiculous, Charlie thought, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his dressing room. This was the third set of clothes he'd put on that morning and still he wasn't decided. Here he was, a mature man nearer to forty than thirty, dithering like a damned teenager over what to wear to the prom! He'd started off with a suit; a deep blue that Cassie had assured him went well with his complexion, added to that a pale blue shirt and tie. He'd looked like a banker! He'd taken off the tie – the look was better, but he took the suit off and hung it back up again. This was lunch, not an evening out. Jeans seemed a little too casual, he wanted to impress – didn't he?

Twelve years was a long time to be denied anything, but the warmth of another human being in that most intimate of connections was the hardest. He hadn't had a date since… he didn't want to think about that, the last person he'd dated had been Jen, and he'd had precious few dates before finding her.

"Just stop thinking, Charlie," he told himself in the mirror. "This is lunch, nothing else. She might not like you, might not want to see you again." His eyes turned bleak for a moment, then he straightened up and headed back to the rails.

He'd finally decided on black jeans and a black shirt left open at the throat. A compromise between the formality of his suits and the laid back feel of jeans and tee shirt.

She smiled at him as he crossed the department floor to her side. She had her bag over her shoulder and was obviously ready to leave. She looked …Charlie let his eyes glide slowly over her, feeling a lump rise in his throat, God but she looked good.

"I've only got thirty minutes, so how about a hot dog?"

Oh he really liked this woman!

"You look pleased with yourself. What have you been up to?" Ted said as Charlie came through his front door whistling softly under his breath.

"I took a young lady out for lunch," he replied, beaming back at him.

Ted watched his friend's face light up and felt a thrill of alarm run through him. "How young?" he asked suspiciously.

Charlie patted Ted's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Ted I'm not chasing after teenagers. Cassie's a mature twenty something – and she makes me laugh."

Ted melted. "Just," he coughed lightly to cover his sudden emotion, "Just be careful, okay?"

It didn't stop him worrying though. Charlie was ripe for getting hurt. Twelve years of nothing but hate thrown at you and he'd be a sitting target for someone who showed him some compassion, some gentleness. He would be so easy to hurt right now. Charlie had walls, he knew that, but a beautiful woman could breach those in a second if his need was great enough.

The next evening Charlie took Cassie out again, this time he wore his suit and took her to a nice Italian restaurant. She wore a dress that hinted at all sorts of delights, and her perfume made his head buzz with longing.

They talked and talked. Charlie told her his history, edited of course. She'd been in turn sympathetic and intrigued, and then thoughtful. Then he'd listened to her story, of how she'd had to drop out of college and earn a living when her father had died. Her mother had been ill for a long time and the money had gone to keeping her in hospital. When her father died, it turned out he'd had no insurance left to cover his debts. So, here she was, a sales clerk/personal shopper instead of training in medicine as she'd hoped.

As they walked out to his car, Cassie put a hand on his arm to stop him. He turned and looked down at her, one brow raised in silent question.

"Charlie, you're a nice guy, truly nice but I think I need to set some ground rules. I'm not looking for anything beyond a fun time. I don't want to be tied down in any way, by any one. I'm happy to see you again, but I don't want you to get serious about me. Can you do that, Charlie?"

He scanned her face seeing the truth there. Zen taught you to accept, so he would. He would stay in whatever moment she would give him and not look for more. He nodded his acceptance, and then smiled at her. "I'm out of practice at having fun, Cassie."

She moved closer to him, sliding fingers around his lapels to pull him down to her and kissing him lightly on the mouth. His arms moved around her, holding her tightly, and he kissed her back, with interest.

"That's okay, practice makes perfect, right? So let's go practice."

She steered him towards his car and then directed him to her apartment.

On the way there Charlie's fears began to resurface. It had been a long time, what if things got out of hand? What if all that need exploded and he couldn't hold back as he should? It had been so long maybe he'd forgotten what to do, how to please – bloody hell he was never going to cope.

"Charlie. Charlie!" Cassie's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Stop thinking, okay. I can hear you all the way over here." She turned in her seat to look at him. "It's going to be fine, I promise."

He woke the next morning with Cassie draped across him, their legs tangled beneath the covers, her head on his shoulder. The night had been incredible. He still wasn't sure how she'd done it, but somehow she'd slowed him down until he could think, could bring his Zen into focussing on the moment and not anticipate the end. And what an end! His hand slid gently down her arm, fingers trailing a meandering path along coffee coloured flesh. She might insist that this was not serious, and he'd be fine with that, but he couldn't stop the surge of affection for her that warmed him from his soul out. He would accept whatever she gave and expect nothing more.

He felt different this morning. Gazing at the ceiling, Charlie tried to deduce what had changed. His body was pleasantly lethargic, his mind calm – calm! Had Ted's assertion that sex was a cure actually been true! No, impossible. Sex was great, but it didn't cure what ailed him, but maybe Cassie's trust had pushed his confidence levels up a notch or two. She stirred next to him, opening her eyes to gaze at him with sleepy satisfaction.

"Morning," she murmured, her body grazing sensually against his.

Charlie's reacted with all the vigour of a nineteen year old, but he quashed the sudden urge and instead set himself to thank her for the previous night with hands and mouth and questing tongue. There was something to be said for Zen focus.

It was barely nine am when Charlie made it home after dropping Cassie at work. She'd turned him down for another date that night, but he wasn't too disheartened as she had said it with a smile followed by a kiss that had lingered on his lips for a long time.

He opened the front door and was immediately confronted by a harassed looking Ted. His friend was standing at the bottom of the stairs, mobile in one hand and the handset for the house phone in the other.

Charlie noted the morning shadow of beard, the bleary eyes and tightened expression.

"Don't tell me you waited up?"

"You don't leave a message, you don't let me know where you're going and you wonder why I'm going to worry about you? Charlie, it's a damn jungle out there, you know that…"

"Ted. Ted! Stop. I'm sorry, I had no idea you were keeping tabs on me." Charlie wasn't that pleased that Ted had been watching him and it leaked out in his voice.

Ted moved into the kitchen and put the house phone back in its base, then tucked his mobile into his pocket, turned and leaned against the counter to watch Charlie amble in after him.

"I wasn't 'keeping tabs on you' I saw that your car wasn't outside, there were no lights on and it was five in the morning. You hadn't told me what you were doing yesterday and I hadn't seen you since the night before. I worried, okay?"

Worry was what Ted excelled in since leaving prison. He was getting his confidence back, but the sharp operator who'd stolen millions without turning a hair was long gone, buried under an accumulation of grinding fear garnered during his time in prison. Charlie sighed, clapped his hand on Ted's shoulder then headed for the fridge. Grabbing a carton of juice, he got out a glass and poured himself some, then took a deep swig.

"I was taking your advice, Ted." His smile broke loose and he could feel a slight warmth tinge his cheeks.

"My advice?"

"Remember I told you I'd taken a young lady out for lunch the other day? Well we had another date last night." Charlie left it there; Ted was no idiot.

"Oh? Oh! Oh, right, right," he stammered before a speculative gleam entered his eyes. "And are you seeing this, ah, young lady again?"

"I sincerely hope so, Ted," Charlie replied, a gentle look on his face.

Ted muttered something under his breath then turned the subject quickly.

"Post was early this morning. There's a packet came for you." Ted indicated to the work surface where a large brown envelope lay unopened.

"Thanks."

Charlie opened it, and slid the first page out, then quickly put it back again. "I'll look at it later, I need a shower and a shave."

"She doesn't have hot running water?" Ted sniped.

Charlie grinned back. "Didn't have time." And he ran lightly up the stairs, the packet in his hand.

After he'd showered, shaved and dressed he made his way back down to the ground floor, picking an apple from the bowl and dropping it into his pocket, then headed out to the pool. Skirting the edge, he went to stand looking out down the valley, the packet still clutched in his hand. He closed his eyes letting his senses settle, before opening them again and looking down at the envelope. Carefully, he tipped out the contents- - a packet of photos and three sheets of typewritten paper.

He read the sheets first. All the details he could ever want on Jennifer's new life. Her address, phone number, email, her husband's details, where he worked - what car he drove, which clubs he belonged to. Jennifer had gone up in the world. Then he opened the packet of photos and gazed on his wife's face for the first time in twelve long years. The years had been good to her; she was just as beautiful now as the day he'd met her. More mature of course, but she'd always had a natural elegance that time had only enhanced. And then photos of him, the husband. Well dressed, well groomed – Charlie could do that now of course. Would she look at him now and wonder what she'd missed? He didn't want to see pictures of them as a couple, but he made himself look at their obvious togetherness. Her hand in the crook of his arm, a smile shared as they walked along oblivious to the camera snapping away at them.

Charlie put the bits back in the envelope. It seemed that he hadn't come to terms with it after all.

Thirty minutes before sunrise Charlie made his way out to the pool's edge and sat down on the cold stones. He turned his face East and waited, letting the flow of his breathing slow as he consciously relaxed his body. He closed his eyes and meditated until he felt a change in the air - a slight rise in temperature that signalled the beginning of a new day. Opening his eyes, he watched the sun begin its journey into the day - a new dawn, unique and beautiful. His new dawn, for today he joined the ranks of the LAPD. He was due down at headquarters at 8am, where he would find out whom had drawn the short straw and would be his senior partner. He hoped it would be someone open minded, but expected to be given a hard time. He was used to it, but that didn't mean he'd like it. He could only do his best, accept whatever fate sent his way and then go about seeking answers. That wasn't against the Zen teaching, was it? Finding answers was never wrong, but maybe one should not ask the questions he was going to.

Today would be the first day of the rest of his life; today would set out a path to be taken, roads to be travelled. What happened this day would define him to those he had to work with and for. You never got a second chance at a first impression and it was so very hard to change someone's mind afterwards.

He dressed with care in the suit that both Cassie and Constance had first picked out for him. Maybe, on some deep subconscious level, he hoped his partner would be a woman. Whomever he got, he hoped it was someone who would not make snap judgements, and would not see past the armour of the suit to the insecurity inside. Bobby Stark, his old partner, used to mouth off about the female detectives, 'ball breakers' he'd called them, but then Bobby was always a little brash around the female officers. Compensating for something or other Charlie had always thought. The women had to work twice as hard as the men to be accepted, or at least that's the way it had been before he'd been put in jail, it wouldn't surprise him to find that the same double standard still applied.

As he came back downstairs, Ted was letting himself in the front door.

"Thought I'd join you for breakfast, if that's okay," his friend said.

Charlie eyed Ted cynically, and then accepted that his friend was going to worry about this as much as he did everything else, but could not stop the thought in his head from rushing out his mouth. "You know I can look after myself, right? I'm not going to get shot the first day out, at least I hope not. They'll probably put me on a desk manning the phone until they have to let me out the building. There's no trust there yet, I have to prove myself, so, don't worry, okay?"

Ted nodded, vaguely embarrassed to be so transparent.

As it turned out, Charlie never made it to the desk. He arrived on time, headed up to the Robbery Homicide department and was ushered straight in to the Captain's presence; a tough looking woman with old eyes. She raked her gaze up his lean body to the composed face. For a good minute they sized one another up, the Captain leaning back in her chair, pencil twirling around her fingers. Charlie couldn't tell what she was thinking; her composure was as good as any poker player. He did his best to keep his own mask in place, allowing her scrutiny without a twitch, thankful for the care he'd taken that morning – first impressions.

Suddenly she leaned forwards and picked up a slip of paper from the desk. "Your partner, Detective Reese, is already out on a call, get over there now. Here's the location." She handed him a slip with the address on it. Charlie recognised it as down by the river, a secluded area under the bridge that had once been frequented by addicts until the LAPD had managed to clean it up.

Charlie turned to go but was called back by the Captain. "Crews, you have a lot to prove to me and the department and your partner. Don't let us down."

The words had most definitely been an order and Charlie had to exercise a lot of control to keep his mouth shut. He knew he wasn't wanted, knew that there was more than a little 'no smoke without fire' mentality within the police force. Yes, dirty cops were a fact of life, but not one that the police department or other cops wanted to recognise. If Charlie were innocent, that meant the cops who put him away were not the fine, upstanding citizens and fellow officers that they should be. It was a hard fact, and one almost insurmountable barrier he had to find a way to climb. Well he'd start by trying to make a good impression on Detective Reese, and take it from there. Actions spoke loudest in this arena, it was time to go to battle.

He drove to the crime scene, parking beside the patrol car and took a moment to hook his badge to his belt. A lone officer stood guard at the top of the incline and he pointed down to where he was expected. The crime scene was down through the scrub and he made his way to the path beaten into the grass. He took a moment to turn and lift his eyes to the sky, revelling for a few moments in the warmth on his skin, the sheer joy of being alive before he would have to face the grim realities of his job, the death and destruction that humans brought to one another all to frequently. The amber tint of his sunglasses hid the far away look in his eyes as he drew on that morning's meditation to bring his thoughts into focus. And then a voice called to him.

"Crews? Detective Crews? You are Detective Crews?"

The woman who addressed him was tiny, trim and hidden behind large sunglasses. Her pose was authoritative and there was an impatience about her that was almost tangible. His new partner?

He thought for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Yeah, I guess I am."

His sunny day was about to get darker.

Thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts, comments –all will be welcomed with open arms and copious thanks. Feel free to review, or mail me privately.


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